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Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Nikolai sent a quick text to Veloura–Be there early tonight–then buried himself in work until seven, completely convinced everything was going according to plan.
The ballroom looked like something out of a fairy tale. Imported flowers in that gradient blue she’d always loved, crystal chandeliers throwing rainbows everywhere, and that massive glass slipper centerpiece stuffed with jewelry boxes and silk–wrapped presents.
This was going to be perfect. His grand romantic gesture to show her he was done fucking around. Done with games.
He could already see her face when she walked in–those eyes lighting up like they used to, probably crying happy tears before throwing herself into his arms and forgiving him for everything.
Seven–thirty came and went. Eight o’clock. Eight–fifteen.
Every important person in Manhattan was here except the only one who mattered.
Nikolai’s chest started feeling tight. Where the hell was she?
He called her phone. Nothing.
Called again. Straight to voicemail.
Third time–fourth–fifth–nothing, nothing, nothing.
His texts weren’t even showing as delivered.
What the fuck?
In ten years, Veloura had never pulled this shit. She answered on the first ring, always. Texted back within seconds, always. She was completely devoted to him, completely available.
Always there when he needed her.
But as he stood there staring at his phone, all these little details started crawling out of the shadows. When was the last time she’d smiled at him? Really smiled, not that hollow, terrified expression she’d been wearing lately?
When was the last time she’d laughed? Or reached for him first? Or looked at him like he was her whole world instead of like he was slowly killing
her?
‘Nik, please just let me go. I can’t take this anymore.”
The memory hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest.
Oh, fuck.
His face went white, then blood–red, then something darker than rage. Pure terror.
Everyone in the ballroom felt the shift. Conversations died mid–sentence. People started backing away from him like he was radioactive.
“Find my wife. Now.” His voice came out like winter itself. “Bring her here.”
He dropped into his chair at the head table and fixed his stare on the entrance, willing her to walk through those doors.
The entire room held its breath.
Nikolai pulled up their text thread with shaking fingers, scrolling back through weeks of messages he’d barely glanced at.
“Nik, please stop chasing that girl. I’m scared. I’m scared you don’t want me anymore.”
“Did I do something wrong? Am I not enough for you?”
Cale Malachis Going Solo on My Own
Chapter 9
“You promised you’d never leave me. I don’t want to share you. Please come home to me.”
“I’m wearing that black lingerie set you bought me. The one you said drives you crazy. Please come home tonight?”
Message after message after message. Pure desperation wrapped in love and terror. She’d been begging him. Literally begging.
And he’d ignored every single one.
His hands started trembling so hard he could barely hold his phone.
How long had she been drowning? How long had she been reaching for him while he was too busy playing with his new toy to notice?
The ballroom doors opened and his assistant walked in alone, looking like he’d seen a ghost.
“Sir….” The man’s voice cracked. “She’s not at the penthouse. Her passport’s gone. Her documents. Everything.”
Nikolai’s world tilted sideways.
“Get everyone out,” he whispered. Then louder, voice breaking: “GET EVERYONE THE FUCK OUT!”
He was running before the words finished leaving his mouth.
The penthouse felt like a crime scene. Living room still destroyed from his three–day fuckfest with Anneliese–wine stains on her white carpet, torn clothes still hanging off furniture like flags of his betrayal.
Seeing it now, he wanted to vomit.
He tore through every room, throwing open closets, checking under beds like she was hiding from him. Like this was some game.
All her clothes were still there. Her jewelry. Every gift he’d ever given her, still in their boxes like museum pieces she’d never been allowed to touch.
Everything except her.
“Veloura!” He was shouting now, voice echoing through empty rooms. “Baby, where are you? This isn’t funny anymore!”
He grabbed his phone, fingers fumbling as he hit record.
“Vel, come on. Stop hiding. You’re scaring me here.” His voice cracked like a teenager’s. “I know you’re upset, but we can fix this. We always fix things.”
“Baby, please. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Just come home.”
“I’m done with Annie, I swear. It was just a stupid game. You know you’re the only one I actually love.”
“Veloura, answer me! You’re being fucking ridiculous!”
He sent message after message, each one more desperate than the last.
The screen stayed blank. No typing bubbles. No read receipts.
Just silence.
He called her brother’s hospital, hands shaking so hard he could barely dial.
“Mr. Austin Belcour? He… he passed away three days ago, sir. I’m sorry, I thought you knew…”
The phone hit the floor.
Three days.
Austin had been dead for three days and Nikolai hadn’t even known.
Which meant…
Go Play Your Duet with Your Mistress: My Life’s Melody is Going Solo on My Own
Chapter 9
“My brother’s all I have left.”
Which meant she was already gone.
He stood there in his empty penthouse, surrounded by all the expensive shit he’d bought to keep her happy, and finally understood what he’d done.
He’d killed the only thing that had ever mattered.
And she was never coming back.
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